


Dr. Gorgeous

by giddytf2



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dildos, Doctor Geralt, Fluff, Humor, In his arse, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, M/M, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Sexual Tension, lots of feelings, up the wazoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28452897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giddytf2/pseuds/giddytf2
Summary: Tottering from his car to the small hospital's Accident & Emergency department with a vibrating dildo up his arse was quite the experience for Jaskier. He had to stop twice, biting his lip, squeezing his eyes shut, clenching his hands while the dildo pressed hard onthatspot.________________________After his dildo gets stuck up his arse, Jaskier has to go to hospital to have it removed. He regrets shoving the dildo up so far, until he sees the gorgeous, white-haired doctor who'll help him with his--internal issues.(Originally a Twitter fic at@giddytf2, edited for easier reading here on AO3.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 30
Kudos: 522





	Dr. Gorgeous

**Author's Note:**

> I'll let this GIF give you a hint of what this story's mood is:

Tottering from his car to the small hospital's Accident & Emergency department with a vibrating dildo up his arse was quite the experience for Jaskier. He had to stop twice, biting his lip, squeezing his eyes shut, clenching his hands while the dildo pressed hard on _that_ spot.

It had already been a special sort of hell to climb out of his bed, put on clothes, and wobble his way out of his house to his car on the driveway. Mrs. Kowalski next door had been watering her colorful flowers when he came out. As usual, the sweet old lady wanted to chat.

She’d prattled about her stubborn foot fungus while he stood ramrod straight near the fence between their homes. With a quivering smile. With his hands over his groin, and his toes curled in inside his sneakers.

Gods, why couldn't he have picked the non-vibrating dildo instead?

He'd held himself together until she shuffled into her house before collapsing against his car, moaning at the incessant pleasure radiating from his lower belly. He'd almost fallen apart again during the swift drive to the hospital—how many bloody potholes could a road have?!

He knew how foolish he looked as he finally passed the entrance's automatic doors, waddling like a semi-drunk, tall penguin, sucking in his lips to keep from groaning. For once, he cursed his very sensitive prostate that'd been his life's greatest blessing since he discovered it.

No one else was at the reception counter save for the scowling, grey-haired receptionist sitting behind it. He waddled up to it. Gripped its rounded edge tight with both hands. Shut his eyes and reined in yet another moan.

"Can I help you?"

The receptionist was glowering at him.

Jaskier cleared his throat. Sucked in a deep, tremulous breath, then straightened, putting on a nonchalant expression.

"Hi. Hello," he said with a voice he was relatively sure was only one octave higher. "A certain object has found itself deeper inside an orifice than expected."

The receptionist continued to glower at him.

He cleared his throat again. Shivered when the dildo's vibrations intensified for a few seconds.

"I would greatly appreciate having that object removed from said orifice posthaste, thank you."

He attempted to smile politely at her.

Her sullen expression was set in stone, it seemed.

She asked, monotone, "Did you accidentally fall in the shower?"

Jaskier's mouth dropped open in outrage.

"No, I did not! I knew _exactly_ what I was doing, and I was having a _great_ deal of fun in bed, thank you very much!"

Her eyebrows arched up her creased forehead. It was probably his imagination her glower eased into something tinged with amusement.

He filled out the necessary forms with a shaky hand. After a minute of waiting that felt like a century, she told him a Dr. Geralt would see him.

She led him to a consultation room that had a small desk with two chairs and a computer, cabinets above a counter, and a stretcher. When he was alone, he stripped. Donned the hospital gown as instructed—and _that_ was a special sort of hell too. The dildo was _torturing_ him.

He whimpered as he gingerly sat on the side of the stretcher. If he sat at a certain angle, the dildo would press _just right_ inside him, vibrating in all the perfect places. If he swiveled his hips in certain directions, it felt even better.

This was hell.

This was heaven.

Without his jeans and boxer briefs to restrain him, he was hardening to full mast fast, tenting the hospital gown. This was bad, so bad. It would be so _rude_ of him to present himself with an erection to Dr. Geralt.

But he felt so good.

He could indulge himself for a bit, yes.

His eyes fluttered shut. He leaned back. Propped himself on his hands, tilting his head back. He let a soft moan escape him while he rocked his hips and felt the dildo vibrate against that delicious spot in him again.

He should have stopped there. He should have, but he didn't.

And that was why he didn't hear the door open and shut, or the heavy footsteps staggering to a halt, while he squirmed and moaned to himself on the stretcher.

He didn't hear the deliberate cough either.

What he did hear, said with a low, gravelly voice, was, "Mr. de Lettenhove?"

Jaskier's eyes snapped wide open. With a mortified squeal, he shot upright, slammed his thighs close and clamped his hands around the edge of the stretcher, white-knuckled.

Oh, oh fuck, the doctor came in and he didn't realize, he—

Jaskier's train of thought flew off the rails.

Oh, he—he'd expected Dr. Geralt to be an old man, like an amiable, harmless grandpa. The incredibly handsome, muscle-bound giant of a man who stood before him in a black dress shirt and charcoal trousers was anything but.

In his defense, Dr. Geralt did have long, white hair.

Long, white hair tied in a half up-half down style. Beautiful, fierce amber eyes. A distinguished nose. Full, kissable lips. Firm, dimpled chin.

Jaskier's brain officially began to short-circuit as he drank in the rest of Dr. Geralt: broad shoulders, grey chest hair peeking out. A sturdy chest that looked as comfortable as plump pillows. A slim waist. The dress shirt was snug enough to reveal the good doctor had defined abs to match everything else, including thighs that could probably crush watermelons, and very, very likely a lovely bottom as well.

And oh, _oh_ , there it was, now that Dr. Geralt had turned away to walk to the desk. Lovely was such a severe understatement to describe those ample, flexing buttocks.

Yeah—the only way Jaskier's rock-hard cock was going down was for a mountain to fall on it and squash it flat.

Still, in the interest of salvaging the one iota of dignity he had left, he pressed his hands down on his erection, then cleared his throat.

"Uhm. Yes. That's me."

He was relatively certain his voice was, at most, two octaves higher.

Dr. Geralt stood in front of the computer. Typed something on a black keyboard, with a single forefinger on the keys. Tap, tap tap tap.

"What can I do for you, Mr. de Lettenhove?"

By Kreve's lopsided bollocks, the doctor's voice was the embodiment of torrid sex on the beach while cool waves battered their flaming bodies.

Jaskier cleared his throat again. Pressed down harder on his obdurate cock.

_You can throw me against the wall and fuck me to kingdom come and back, yes, please, thank you kindly._

"I, uhm—my dildo made its way _higher up_ than usual."

He felt Dr. Geralt's gaze on his red face.

Again, Dr. Geralt typed something into the computer. Weeks from now, when the divine doctor was more than just his doctor, he would learn the exact words on his file were: "DILDO IN RECTUM".

Jaskier sank his teeth into his lower lip.

"It's, ah, still vibrating," he squeaked.

Again, Dr. Geralt stared at his scorching face for a moment, before typing another sentence. Which he would later learn was: "DILDO STILL VIBRATING".

He fidgeted with his fingers. Rubbed the top of his foot with the other's sole. Stared at Dr. Geralt from the corner of his eyes.

What a gorgeous god of a man the doctor was, that he was so sexy just frowning, high forehead furrowed, amber eyes squinting at the computer screen. So cute while typing with one finger like that. So—

Jaskier's eyes widened. He tore them away from Dr. Geralt. He swallowed hard.

Oh no. Oh shit. He was doing it again: falling head over heels for someone he just met. Falling in love with every little thing they did, no matter how mundane.

But this time, wasn't he justified in doing so?

With the handsomest man in the whole wide world he had ever beheld?

He could blame this completely on the vibrating dildo in his arse, couldn't he?

Yes, that made sense. That made total, irrefutable sense. Even the sharpest lawyer in court would have a difficult time challenging the sovereignty of a rainbow-striped, five-speed-option dildo—

"Are you in pain?"

Jaskier popped open eyes he hadn't realized he had shut. Dr. Geralt was standing in front of him, gazing at him with benevolent eyes despite the lingering frown.

Dr. Geralt was wearing blue medical gloves.

Jaskier's throat bobbed with another hard swallow. Then he stammered, "No. Uh, no. I—it feels—" His face heated up. "I'm not in pain. But I would highly prefer not having the dildo inside me anymore."

If it wasn't for him staring captivated at Dr. Geralt's face, he would have missed the slight tremor of those dark pink lips. He was completely and utterly certain that Dr. Geralt had a dazzling smile to rival the sun's brilliance, if the doctor allowed it to bloom.

"Understandable," Dr. Geralt replied, eyes crinkled.

Jaskier nodded. Clenched his hands into fists when Dr. Geralt said, "Please lie down."

He'd spoken too soon, he really had. Leaving his bed and house, the drive to the hospital, waddling into A&E—all that had been a walk in the park compared to lying down on this stretcher.

To spreading his legs wide.

So Dr. Geralt could have—access to his dildo-stuffed arse.

 _Gods_ , where was his trusty cock ring when he needed it most?!

He had to hold his breath while settling his tense, pleasure-infused body on the mattress. The dildo shifted inside him in the most agonizing ways, particularly once he was on his back. He pressed a fist to his lips.

This was his favorite position to masturbate with his dildos. He relished being able to spread his legs wide. To arch off the bed with his feet planted. To thrust the dildo in and out while he came hard and loud as he wished, painting his hairy belly and chest with his come.

But he couldn't, not now.

He had to keep absolutely silent and still while Dr. Geralt removed his vibrating dildo from his arse.

While Dr. Geralt slid those gloved fingers into his already lubed hole, and _moved_ said fingers to find the dildo, pushing in deeper and deeper—

"I really, _really_ should have written my will first," Jaskier whispered to himself.

He could hear Dr. Geralt retrieving something from a cabinet. Hear a chair being rolled on its wheels to the foot of the stretcher.

Hear the deafening pop of a cap opening.

The squirt of lube.

His face was hot enough to fry an egg. He gulped down a whimper. He stared up at the white ceiling. He linked his hands on his trembling belly, and told himself this was far from the first time he'd spread his legs like this for another man.

But Dr. Geralt was no ordinary man.

Dr. Geralt was the handsomest man in the whole wide world he'd ever beheld, and he was going to die of bliss before those fingers even found the dildo.

 _Here lies Julian Alfred Pankratz_ , his gravestone would say, _who died having known the rapture of Dr. Geralt in his arse_.

Well, just those long, thick fingers—but they were more than enough to slay him. He didn't want to think about how long and _thick_ Dr. Geralt's _cock_ must be, or he was going to co—

"Mr. de Lettenhove, I'm going to insert my fingers now. Please tell me if you feel any pain."

Jaskier sucked in a hot, short breath. Then another. His intertwined fingers on his ever-trembling belly tightened until they ached.

"Okay," he squeaked, and he was resigned with sounding like a cartoon chipmunk for the fleeting remainder of his young life.

His toes curled in. His cock, thankfully hidden by the hospital gown, was so hard it was vibrating on his lower belly like the dildo in his arse. He knew far better than to even graze it with his hand, because that was all it'd take for him to—

Blunt, thick fingertips touched his sensitive hole.

Dr. Geralt had lubricated his fingers well. Even warmed them.

Jaskier would thank the considerate doctor for it—but he was slapping his trembling hands over his mouth, muffling his uncontrollable moan to near silence as those fingers finally, _finally_ slid into his hole.

Two of them. The forefinger and third finger.

Dr. Geralt was carefully pushing them in, to examine how deep the dildo was, that Jaskier hadn't been able to reach with his own fingers. Yet, he already felt so _full_ , so on edge.

Dr. Geralt's fingers were _perfect_ inside him.

"All right?"

It took Jaskier ages to realize that Dr. Geralt was speaking to him. That those magnificent fingers were motionless inside him.

He lowered his trembling hands. Gasped a sharp breath. Oh fuck, if he didn't say anything, Dr. Geralt was going to pull those fingers out. Then Dr. Geralt was going to stand up and see his fire-hot, tomato-red face. See how much he couldn't help _enjoying_ having this gorgeous god of a man's fingers in him, and then the doctor would rightfully get angry at him, and have him reported for being a—a _pervert_ —

"Mr. de Lettenhove?"

Jaskier gasped in more precious air. Cleared his itchy throat, then rasped, "I'm fine! I'm absolutely, completely, utterly fine!"

He supposed sounding like he was being fucked six ways to Sunday was a mild improvement above sounding like a cartoon chipmunk.

He wished and yet _didn't_ wish to see Dr. Geralt's face. To have an inkling of what the doctor's expression was. What the doctor was thinking. Dr. Geralt had to be feeling so—awkward right now. How often did doctors remove vibrating dildos from arses, anyway? Ten times a year?

A long pause preceded Dr. Geralt's calm reply.

"All right." Jaskier heard small wheels squeak as the chair moved closer to the stretcher. "I'm going in deeper. Do tell me if you feel any pain."

_Oh yes, I'm feeling pain, dear doctor. The pain of not having your cock instead._

Jaskier wisely chose not to speak, for Dr. Geralt's fingers were sliding in, in, and _in_. He smacked both hands over his mouth again. His chest quivered with erratic breaths.

How was it possible for two mere fingers to feel better than the vibrating dildo already in his arse?

He squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, _oh_ , this was hell, this was heaven, this was—

Inside him, the dildo shifted, nudged by Dr. Geralt's fingertips.

His eyes snapped wide open.

"Ah," Dr. Geralt said. "I found it."

Jaskier stared sightlessly up at the ceiling while his body shook.

Oh, the good doctor had found it, all right—and shifted it so it pressed unrelentingly against that damn sweet spot in him.

He panted behind his hands. His feet curled on the mattress. His eyes stung from the strain of subduing himself.

It was a bloody miracle he hadn't come.

And Dr. Geralt had no idea what he was _doing_ to him.

"Okay, I'm going to try pulling it out now."

Jaskier's hands stayed clamped over his mouth. He nodded anyway, if only to distract himself, to remind himself he was in a hospital's consultation room, receiving treatment.

He scrunched his eyes shut when Dr. Geralt's fingers _stretched_ him inside. Dr. Geralt was gently attempting to take hold of the dildo's base—but for him, the intense sensations were scarcely different from someone opening him up so _good_ for a big cock to fuck him stupid.

If Dr. Geralt inserted a third finger, he was done for, totally done for—

"Okay, I got it."

The doctor sounded as if he was a million miles away from Jaskier. His heartbeat hammered in his ears. He was growing faint from his hands clamping over his mouth, his nose. He wheezed.

Then Dr. Geralt gently _tugged_.

Jaskier's stinging eyes widened, and widened, as the vibrating dildo began to slide out of him. Combined with Dr. Geralt's fingers, it was akin to being fingered and fucked at the same time, with energetic vibrations as the blissful cherry on top.

And still, he managed to hold onto a scintilla of self-control, his very last. Managed to not moan aloud. To not blow his load all over his quivering, tense belly.

Until the dildo's ridged head scraped across his tingling prostate already long begging for mercy and relief.

Until, from far, far away, almost as if it was an exquisite dream, he heard a low, gravelly voice rasp, "Good boy."

Jaskier's orgasm devastated him like a gargantuan ocean wave pulverizing a city. It rolled through his arching body from the crown of his head to his curled toes. He mindlessly grabbed with both hands at the pillow under his head, his eyes shut, his neck bared. Ropes of come spurted out of his cock and cooled on his belly, soaking into the hospital gown.

He heard his own fractured moans peter out as he came down from his splendid high.

His first coherent thought an eon later was that it wasn't his bedroom ceiling he was staring at. The next one was that he'd just experienced the greatest orgasm of his life yet—and he was going to marry the man who'd gifted it to him, and love him with all his heart forever.

The generous, gorgeous god of a man who was now standing at the counter on the other side of the room, silently cleaning the switched off dildo with a cloth and sanitizer.

Standing so far from Jaskier, with such rigid shoulders and spine. With his broad back facing Jaskier.

Still shivering with lingering pleasure, Jaskier slowly propped himself up onto his elbows, then pushed himself upright to sit on the side of the stretcher. He let out a noisy sigh of relief at the cessation of vibrations inside him. His hospital gown slipped off one shoulder.

He glanced down and grimaced at the come stains on the gown. At the lube still inside him. Oh well, he could wash that out at home later.

"Uhm. Sorry about the, uh, stains."

Dr. Geralt didn't reply. He placed the now clean, rainbow-striped dildo on a paper towel on the counter.

Jaskier cleared his throat, but it didn't make his voice any less husky.

"Doctor?"

Dr. Geralt devastated him in a very different way with five quietly said words.

"I can't see you anymore."

Dr. Geralt's face was flushed. He stood partially facing Jaskier, scowling, eyes lowered. Bare, large hands in fists at his sides.

"Oh," Jaskier mumbled, his entire chest aching.

Dr. Geralt shut those beautiful amber eyes for a few seconds. Then, opening them to half-mast, still staring down at the floor, he rasped, "Officially. As your doctor. I—can't, anymore."

An immense flood of warmth, one Jaskier recognized as hope, wiped away the ache in his chest.

Dr. Geralt raised his head but still didn't look Jaskier in the eye.

"I never—with any other patient—in my whole career—" Dr. Geralt swallowed hard. "I overstepped my boundaries."

Jaskier slipped off the stretcher to stand on legs steadier than he'd expected.

"My behavior at the end was unforgivable. I'm sorry."

Jaskier sauntered up to Dr. Geralt. His hospital gown slipped farther down his shoulder. He stood in front of the doctor, his face softening.

After a few more seconds of taut silence, Dr. Geralt straightened up, and looked him in the eye with remorseful ones.

"I will understand if you decide to report me."

Jaskier stared at the doctor. Tilted his head, then asked, "Are you actually apologizing to me for _two words?_ "

Dr. Geralt's forehead furrowed. He opened his mouth. Then he shut it, glancing away. Then he opened it again—and was still speechless.

"Well," Jaskier said, eyes heavy-lidded. "I refuse to accept your apology."

Dr. Geralt's eyes widened. Jaskier took a step forward. And another. Then another—until their chests were almost touching, the tips of their noses grazing. Those wide amber eyes were mesmerizing up-close.

"Those two words," Jaskier murmured, "gave me the most fabulous orgasm of my life yet." He raised his eyebrows. "And I've had more than a few."

He felt rather than saw Dr. Geralt's neck move in a long swallow. He felt powerful, being able to fluster this gorgeous, noble god of a man—who found him attractive in return.

"So if you think I'll let you feel sorry for that—" Jaskier gazed at him from under his lashes. "You've really got something— _coming_ your way, Dr. Gorgeous."

For the first time, Jaskier was witness to a smile of amusement gradually blooming on Dr. Geralt's face. It was all the sweeter for how the doctor tried to suppress it and failed.

"I think that already happened."

Slowly, biting his lower lip, Jaskier raised his right hand between their bodies. He wriggled his fingers, then risked fiddling with the open collar of Dr. Geralt's dress shirt.

Dr. Geralt didn't object.

Dr. Geralt was a living furnace on two sturdy legs who smelled _very_ good.

"By the way," Jaskier murmured, "my name isn't Jay de Lettenhove. It's Julian Alfred Pankratz." He gave the doctor a small, sweet smile. "But I prefer going by Jaskier."

"Hmmn." Dr. Geralt's lips quirked up. "Geralt."

"Just one name?” Jaskier's smile expanded. "It's all you need."

They might have nuzzled each other's faces then. Or kissed, tenderly at first, then open-mouthed and passionate, stumbling back to the stretcher.

Instead, they stepped back from each other in unison when several people walked past the room's shut door, accompanied by loud chatter.

Oh, right. This was a hospital. And Jaskier had come here to see a doctor about his—deeply lodged issue.

A doctor who couldn't be his doctor anymore.

Well, officially.

"All right. I will see another doctor, if I must." Jaskier ran his tongue across his lower lip. "But—" He gazed at Geralt from under his dark lashes again. "I think my doctor boyfriend will gladly help me with long, _thick_ phallic things in my arse. Don't you?"

Oh, the tremor of those full lips really was cute.

"Take me out to dinner first. Then you can call me that, you brat."

The grin that exploded across Jaskier's face was rivaled in brilliance only by the iridescent sovereignty of his loyal dildo.

Oh yes, he could be a nightmare of a brat.

But he could also be a very good boy.

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, this is purely a work of fiction and sexual fantasy, and in no way reflects the reality of going to a hospital to get a vibrating dildo out of your arse. Good luck to you on finding an amber-eyed, white-haired muscle god of a doctor out there. 🥼


End file.
